


Chimera

by alba17



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana's relationship with Uther is complex and multi-faceted; ever-shifting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chimera

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **Warnings/Spoilers**: Incest, bondage; _ 1.12 To Kill the King_  
> **A/N:** Written for comment_fic prompt: "he wasn't the worst father." And naturally, that makes one think of incest, right? I don't even know where this came from. Thanks to everyone at the LJ community cheer_me_on who gave me valuable feedback.

  
He wasn't the worst father.

In fact, Uther wasn't her father at all and perhaps that was the crux of it. The stern gaze, the stolid refusal to see reason, the stubborn set of his shoulders as he repeatedly rebuffed her efforts to melt his resolve; it all would have been easier to take if he had been her real father.

But he wasn't and she could never forget that.

Sometimes after they fought, she'd rush back to her chambers, blood thrumming with anger and frustration, her mouth grim. The laces of her gown gripped like a vise around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. She'd have Gwen take it off as quickly as possible, and slip on her nightgown, which fell loose and cool over her bare skin.

Then there were those nights, after Gwen had gone, when the heat of her confrontation with Uther burned steady and insistent deep inside, refusing to subside. She'd close her eyes and hear his voice, deep and commanding.

_"Take care, child, or I'll have you restrained."_

The words reverberated in her mind, casting alluring images that she couldn't let go, that struck through her like lightning. As if by its own accord, her hand would wander under her shift, drawn to that melting place between her legs, recalling the cold spark of his eyes drilling into her, dissolving her defences, laying her open and vulnerable like no one else could. She imagined those gloved hands on her, the drag of the dark leather across her pale skin as he bore down on her, his cape spreading wide as he pressed inside. She'd quiver and jerk with her release, and then sleep deeply, always, without dreams.

~~~~

Billowing in the wind, their cloaks wrapped around them, the green and the red tangling together. Nearby, his sword stood tall, thrust into the earth when he'd thought they were safe.

She'd meant to betray him. Yet his words had melted her heart, his hand lying heavy and firm on her shoulder. When Tauren attacked Uther, she had to save him. He wasn't her father, no - he was both more and less. The ties that bound them were like a cobweb, a complex pattern of whisper thin threads, visible only in a certain light, yet strong enough to entrap and kill.

This time she'd saved him; maybe not the next. She could still feel the sharp edge of her anger cutting into her consciousness, roiling under her shifting emotions. But for the moment, there was this: his hand on her shoulder; the dusky smell of his leather glove; the press of strong fingers through her cloak. His touch evoked the enthralling images his earlier threats had drawn in her mind; their promise, glittering and forbidden, making her pulse race.

_The manacles click as they close on her delicate wrists, the edges rough and biting against her skin. She struggles. But this time there's a glint in her eye; it's only for show._

As the wind whipped through the trees, they stood close, their breath mingling warm in the cool air, as his arms enclosed her. She trembled under his touch, rage, resentment, desire and fear combating within her. Part of her wanted to break free, grab his nearby sword and run it through him while she still had the chance. But even more, she longed for the solid press of his warm body against her, for his words of trusting approval. Like the charged air before a summer thunderstorm, the tension thrummed between them, as they clung to each other in shock and relief at what had just happened. She wanted to hold fast to that feeling, to push it hard, take it to its limits to see how far it would go.

Morgana looked in Uther's eyes and put her hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers barely touching. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, under her hood.

_How far could she take it? How far would he let her?_

"So, have you forgiven me?" Uther arched his eyebrow, inquiring.

"Yes, sire, of course," she murmured obediently, with a slight upturn of her mouth.

"Good. Let us go home." Uther offered her his arm.

Morgana hooked her arm through his, feeling some sense of calm at last, a glimmer of a smile creeping across her features. She would get what she wanted - she was certain now. Uther thought the battle was over, but it was only just joined.

~~~~

He draws one finger down the inside of her arm and traces the inside of the manacle. Restrained, yet liberated, she's free now to open up to him, like a flower bud unfurling in the sun. Mouth, cunt, arsehole; each is his in turn, bringing her to the edge time after time. They bend and sway as in a dance, the waves of pleasure rising and receding, the chinking rattle of the chains granting their secret wishes, a subtle counterpoint to their sighs and moans.

When she sees his face, enraptured and shining as he comes, uttering her name with fervent intent, she thrills with a sense of triumph.

The war has been won.

  


_   
**Fic: Chimera **   
_


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